


Equal

by BL4R1233



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Beforus, F/M, Sadstuck, makara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 15:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1033270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BL4R1233/pseuds/BL4R1233
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurloz Makara is willing to give up hope when the promises the Mirthful Messiahs made fall short...only to be saved by a person he never expected to break into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equal

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot sadstuck. I think. I was aiming for a sadstuck at least. Enjoy

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t need this. I could just…fade from existence. It would be better for everyone if I did.”

“That’s purrpawstrus, don’t talk like that,” she purred, cupping his chin in her hands. His skin was smooth, warm to the touch. Surprising considering he had enough makeup on to smother a pawbeast. “Besides, it wouldn’t be better for me.” She leaned in and kissed him gently, letting her lips linger on his. After a moment she pulled back and sank into his embrace, face pressed in the tangled locks of his hair.

“I love you Meulin,” he whispered, arms tightening around her waist.

“Love you too, Kurlz.”

Kurloz Makara was always frowned upon. Made fun of by lowbloods for his lack in ethics, shunned by highbloods for consumption of the ‘wicked elixir’ and worship of Gods who only sought to bring chaos and discord upon their world. This being said, it was only natural he’d grow twisted and black.

Within the shadows of his hive. This was where you would always be sure to find him, granted, nobody ever DID want to find him unless it was to jeer at him. Kurloz would sit and drink in the dark, blinking into the fading light and moving ever so often to nourish or relieve himself. Other than that he sat and prayed, prayed for the Mirthful Messiahs and the Hell they would rain upon the others when they finally descended from their rainbow-coated chariots in the sky.

 

The drones tried on several occasions to cull him for not committing to the community. He had no plans for the future, no calling to answer. He only had the Gods to wait for. The highblood’s efforts were wasted however, for the boy was protected by the wrath of his lusus—a six-ton goat dragon the boy referred to as Capridad. It would surge up the bubbling depths of the sea and crush the tenacious robots, leaving Kurloz safe and alone in the seaside hive. Truth be told, the massive beast truly cared for the boy and was not simply bound by a desire to protect.

Every now and then it would rear its monstrous head and lean over and peer through the thick glass of his bedroom, moony eyes looking questioningly at the young troll. It was then Kurloz would smirk, rise from his praying position, and walk over to pat the best on its nose.

“I am okay. Thank you.”

And growling under its breath, Capridad would lick his face (smearing his carefully applied makeup, but oh well) and return to the sea. Such were his days. 

Kurloz began to doubt himself. Doubt the Mirthful Messiahs. He would be left here, alone in this empty, lonely hive until the day he died, praying to Gods who caused his toiling in the first place. He was drained, he was lonely; where was his promised sanctuary?

“I give up,” he growled one day, rising to his creaky joints. He was quite skinny after meditating in darkness for so, so many sweeps. His bony, tall frame always swayed when he walked. He was weak.  
“What’s the point? Rejected by Gods, rejected by trolls!” The gangly boy yelled into the empty hive. His voice, haggard and deep and rough, screamed back at him. 

The enormous lusus must have heard his cry of frustration, for it poked its snout through the window and snorted. Blinded with anger, Kurloz rushed to the window and shoved the snout away. “No. No Capridad, I don’t need you to lick away the tears! Get away, boy!” he yelled. The lusus looked at him with those deep, purple eyes, not understanding. Why was his charge pushing him? He never pushed him.

“MmmmBaaah?” it grumbled.

“Go! Go you stupid thing!” he shoved it again, this time making sure to dig his claws in the tough skin. The beast bleated, and retreated a bit. “That’s right! Out! Go! I don’t need you anymore!” rage pulsed through his purple veins, making him light headed and angrier. Damn it, he was so weak!

Capridad bleated again, sensing his distress and moved in to nuzzle him. 

I SAID NO, DAMN IT.

A terrifying, dark hold pulsed through him. He had shouted the words, but not shouted them at all. Kurloz realized, with surprise, the command had forced its way out of his conscious, echoing out into space but not reaching his ears at all. Capridad seemed to ‘hear’ it too, and jerked backwards, moaning with pain.

“Shit, Capridad—I’m sorry! I don’t know what—“ But the lusus didn’t listen, just bucked and arched its serpentine body in pain and hurt and confusion. It bleated a terrible cry and dove its head back into the ocean’s murky depths.

He disappeared without a trace, save for a break in the waves. 

Kurloz’s anger was gone now, drained by the look of betrayal on his sweet, dear lusus’ face. Numbly, he fell backwards on the floor, fall broken by the massive amount of tangles on his head. He had no one now. No protection, no love, no lusus.

He was truly, and utterly alone. 

Weeks passed. Kurloz didn’t move a muscle. Hardly breathed. He resigned to die right then and there, so many days ago, and by all rights he should have. It was only the fact that his blood was so high he was able to survive so long. The lowbloods would have been dead after the first two weeks. He wasn’t awake much, mostly fading in and out of different dreams, different nightmares. He could feel himself slipping with each passing day; it wouldn’t be long now.  
*~*   
It was on his fourth week he heard a noise. Soft, and cautious, a knock thumped on the door. Kurloz opened one eye lazily. He didn’t care, he wasn’t afraid of what would come through his door. Perhaps it would end his miserable existence. Another timid knock at the door sounded, shortly followed by a tinkling noise; someone was trying to pick through the lock. After a moment it stopped, and Kurloz couldn’t help but feel his heart beat a little faster as the //creeeaaak// of the unused door echoed down the hall.

“Hello?” a voice, soft and rolling. “Is anyone home?” A soft, questioning pur. It reminded him of Capridad, wherever the poor guy was. Footsteps, lighter than a sqeakbeast’s. They slowly padded down the hall, the sounds of doors opening and closing at each room.

One, two, three….his respiteblock was next, fourth room on the right. The steps were almost there now—

“Oh my gosh!” The voice sounded feminine, he remarked, feminine and worried. Ha, that was new. The footsteps, now urgent in their purpose quickly crossed the room to his side. A figure loomed over him, hair falling down in rivulets around him. They smelled like the forest. “Are you alive?”

He didn’t know why, but he nodded, making him ache with pain, “A…bit—ACK!” a cough, thick and syrupy, hacked at his lungs. When it faded away, he smiled weakly, “Don’t plan on being for long.”

Without a word, the girl scooped him up—almost tossed him in the air, she wasn’t expecting him to be so light—and deposited him in his recoupracoon. No! No, no no no no no this would keep him alive, not… But the calming sopor had already entered his lungs, filling them with a healing sensation and pumping nutrients in with each breath. Slowly, reluctantly, Kurloz fell asleep.  
*~*

He awoke in the commonplace of his hive, propped up by a pile of pillows. Confusion flashed through his mind before memories of the previous day—or week? Month? How could he know—resurfaced. That girl. That strange, wild girl had saved him. And he was so close to dying too!

“Damn it.” He croaked, the voice escaping his lips, rough and dry.

“Oh good, your awake!”

Kurloz went rigid. He looked over to his nutrition block just in time to see the troll exit through the door, holding a small plate and a cup. He eyed her wearily as she approached, careful to look at this mysterious girl who had pulled him from the grip of death’s embrace. She was tall, but now quite as tall as him, and clothed in black and green, displaying her blood color. Low, but not terribly, almost smack dab in the middle of the hemospectrum. Her hair was thick and wild and long, dangerously close to resembling his own mat of black. Her eyes were just beginning to swirl with the foresty-green of her blood, and her horns were conical and wide. What really caught his eyes was the apparent mutation sprouting from just above her waist; a long, blue tail. 

She smiled gently at him as she approached. He didn’t return the gesture, but looked at her blankly when she sat down on the opposite facing couch. 

“You scared the fur off of me! You looked so…skeletal. You’ve been out for two days. I brought you out here, I hope you don’t mind.” She looked at him with big, orb-like eyes. He didn’t respond. She swallowed, “Ah, I, caught you fish,” she gestured at the plate him her hand, “Sorry, I don’t know how to cook…but raw meat is much better in my opinion!” she smiled again.

“…Do you always meddle where you shouldn’t?” he asked, deep and hollow.

“Well, I couldn’t just let you die! What kind of pawful person would do that?”

“Too many. I am not exactly favored in our kind’s eyes.”

“Well, you’re not going to die.”

“I don’t want to live.”

She scowled at this, scrunching up her nose, “I don’t care. I’m not letting someone die in my paws!” Before he could respond she leaned forward and dangled a slice of raw fish in his face. Despite himself, he opened his mouth and let her pop it in. He chewed, savoring the salty flavor, before swallowing the piece down. Kurloz frowned. 

“Damn it.”

Encouraged, she smiled and held out another piece. Unable to resist, Kurloz leaned in and accepted the food. Soon, the small pile of meat on the plate had vanished. He leaned back against the pile of pillows and laid a hand on his stomach. A few beats passed before he choked out:

“Thank you…”

“Meulin leijon.” She smiled mischievously. Her eyes gleamed in the dark of the hive.

“Kurloz,” he found himself saying, “Kurloz Makara.”  
*~*

 

The next few months were a blur, filled with laughter and happiness and so many cat puns Kurloz lost count. The strange forest-dweller had found her way to Kurloz’s forgotten hive in search of a new home when the Condensce started construction on her forest home. Though he never would say it, he was secretly happy to learn this during their third week together, that meant she and her lusus could stay with him until they found a new place.

Meulin and Kurloz grew to be very close friends, and with her help, he slowly began to pick up the pieces where he left off. He threw away the Gods, they had caused nothing but pain and should not be in the presence of such a lovely and effervescent person. She convinced him to move on and pursue a future; he took to liking the law, and found that occupying the title of Grand Highblood would be a position in which he could provide for Meulin and keep them safe.

He found himself blushing madly when he thought of this, like she would actually stay with him long enough for that.

The two soon entered the pale quadrant. She introduced him to her friends. They all seemed nice, but the little talkative one was one of his favorites. He would go on rambles for miles, and Kurloz found himself greeting the boy on pesterchum with a, “Whats up, Kankz?” just to see his wave of red wash over the screen, insisting on how calling him such a name was ‘immature and ridiculous.’

Really, it was no surprise when they became matesprits. She kissed him first, on the day when she was teaching him how to fish. He wasn’t in one of his good moods when they were standing knee-deep in warm salt water; bent down in a preposterous (PerPAWstrous, Kurlz, get it right!) angle. Whenever a fish got close enough he lost his balance, or in his excitement he’d take a step and the fish would dash away. He was soaked and frustrated and tired of being bent over for so long!

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she wasn’t pulling fish up so easily, plucking them from the water like they were writhing in a barrel.

“How?!” he growled, spewing sea salt everywhere. She giggled and pulled up another fish.

“Years of practice, I guess!”

He scowled and looked back at the swaying surface of the water, only to be slapped in the face by a large, scaly fish that leapt from the waves. He sputtered and pin wheeled backwards, crashing into the water. She had laughed even harder, erupting in snorts and giggles while she pulled him up, wet and cursing.

“You’re too cute when you’re frustrated,” she’d cooed out of nowhere, and pulled his drenched, tangled hair to hers and sealed their lips with a kiss. She kissed him softly, timidly, and after the initial shock, he’d kissed her back.

And ever since then, they were matesprits. For half a sweep, this had been so.

 

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t need this. I could just…fade from existence. It would be better for everyone if I did.” The two of them were tangled in each other’s arms, sitting contentedly on the couch in the commonplace room. Meulin’s lusus was resting on the floor by their feet. She leaned into his shoulder and breathed in deeply; it ticked his neck.

“That’s purrpawstrus, don’t talk like that,” she purred, cupping his chin in her hands. His skin was smooth, warm to the touch. Surprising considering he had enough makeup on to smother a pawbeast. Though he no longer worshiped, he felt naked without it. “Besides, it wouldn’t be better for me.” She leaned in and kissed him gently, letting her lips linger on his. After a moment she pulled back and sank into his embrace, face pressed in the tangled locks of his hair.

“I love you Meulin,” he whispered, arms tightening around her waist.

“Love you too, Kurlz.”

And they fell asleep, warmed by the heat of their embrace.

 

“RISE, MOTHERFUCKER. You have been dormant far too long.” A terrifying, deep voice growled.

“W-what? Where am I?” he blinked, opening his eyes. He couldn’t see anything, just blackness. Where was he? Where was Meulin?

“YOU ARE IN THE EMBRACE OF THE MIRTHFUL MESSAIHS, BROTHER. In the darkness, where you belong.” The voice was followed by a shrill, chilling honk. It echoed into the black void.

“Impossible, you’re not real,” he whispered, turning frantically for a light, a shape, anything. The nothingness was overwhelming.

“OH BUT WE ARE. So motherfucking real it will blow.YOUR.mind.”

“Then where have you been??!! Why did you leave me! I believed so long and you…you never came.” Silence. It stretched on for an eternity until the voice boomed back, in a somewhat softer tone.

“So sorry, bro. US GODS CANT ALWAYS ANSWER PRAYERS, now can we? But rest assured, you were never forgotten. WE NEVER FUCKING FORGET OUR SUBGULATORS. Never. AND NOW. And now. YOUR TIME TO RISE HAS COME.”

“I’m through with you,” Kurloz refused, spitting into the black, “You had your chances, too many of them. I have a reason to live besides you now, a person who cares for me, who…who loves me.”

“BULLSHIT. That motherfucker can’t love you. YOU ARE A MESSENGER OF THE MIRTHFUL MESSAIHS. Destined to destroy the world, plunge the world into chaos. AND HOW GLORIOUS WILL IT BE, THIS NEW WORLD YOU WILL SCULPT WITH YOUR OWN MOTHERFUCKING FINGERS.” 

Rage and fear bubbled up inside the troll. No, they couldn’t be serious. “Shut the fuck up! Don’t call her that! She loves me, I love her. I’m never going to hurt her, or anyone. You can find yourself another messenger.” He barked. The voice did not answer. He smirked to himself. There. No stupid Gods could tell him what to do, not after the shit he went through.

Kurloz turned, determined to walk away from the consuming darkness—

Only to be faced with the most terrifying troll he’d ever seem. Paint masked its features, stuck to its grotesque, over-sized face. Purple, bloodshot eyes peered at him though a wild mane of black, and splats of rainbow covered his face.

“We’ll motherfuckin see about that, brother.” He whispered, and ran a claw down his face.

 

“AHHHHHHHHH!” Kurloz awoke with a jump, heart pounding and ears splitting. The terrible sound that ripped from his throat shook the foundations of the house and rattled his lungs, surging forth with a force that made his throat raw from pain. It ended almost abruptly as it began, echoing harshly in the hallways of his home.

His ears rung for a few moments. His throat burned like fire. Before he could stop, he coughed up blood, deep purple spattering all over the bundle in his arms—wait, what bundle? 

No no no no no.

“Meulin?” 

 

It was then the ringing stopped, and what met his ears was the most terrible sound he had ever heard, the most heart-wrenching, soul-shattering sound in the world. Meulin screeched and wailed and cried and sobbed, form shaking uncontrollably in his lap. Tears rose to his eyes at the sound, and he quickly bent down and pressed his face to the back of her head, murmuring over and over again,

“God, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so, so sorry—“ 

A fresh wave of tears sprung to his eyes when, finally, his beloved matesprit gained enough control to look up through the tears and squeaked in a pitiful voice,

“Kurloz? Are you speaking to me?”

Her ears were pouring blood.  
*~*

“Kurloz…Kurloz what did you do?” The smaller, green troll looks up at him through tearful eyes. He cannot answer, cannot calm her. He only pats her head as soothingly as he can; trying without words to assure her everything is alright. But she knows it’s not. Meulin pulls away and runs into his room, returning with a pencil and a piece of paper. She pushes it frantically in his hand, the edges of the paper wet with tears.

He smiles, the action causing a fresh wave of pain to roll over his mouth. The stitches hurt, but he doesn’t mind. Kurloz bends down and scribbles on the piece of paper. She snatches it up and quickly reads over the small message, then collapses, a mess in his arms. He pulls her into his chest and nuzzles her gently. It will be okay, it will be okay.

Over her hair, he reads the scrap of paper that has fluttered carelessly to the ground.

“I made us equal. I made us right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I Knew about the relation ship and why Meulin was deaf and why Kurloz sewed his mouth shut...and I just HAD to fill in the blanks >w


End file.
